Spite Tainted Motives
by LittleMissCheerios
Summary: It's been three years since the affair, and his confession of the mistake he thinks he made leaving her has only added more fuel to her fire. She's still bitter, she's still hurting and she still has a personal vendetta to settle the woman who stole her husband.


Chapter One

Three years ago he cheated on me with the dental hygienist I'd hired to replace me at his practice. I'd handpicked her out of a handful of very qualified, some even over qualified applicants. She seemed just crazy enough to make any man want to come home to his wife. And he did, he'd spend his evenings telling me how annoyed he was with her and that's made me happy. He'd come home to a warm meal and a loving family every night. I made sure of it. Then he'd wait impatiently for me to put the kids to bed to practically drag me up the stairs to show me just how much he appreciated coming home to me every night. All the stresses from our days would melt away as we'd hold one another close, murmuring "I love you" into each other's ears until we'd fall asleep.

She was the perfect choice. She was eccentric, a little loopy, funny, and she worked hard which was why I'd liked her. Had. She'd managed to push him back into my arms for a while. He was more attentive than I'd ever seen him, but then one day it all changed. The first day he'd stayed late. He didn't eat anything that night, just went straight up to take a shower before going to sleep. I chalked it up to him working too hard, but the more it happened the harder it got to not be hurt by it. Our romantic nights came to a halt. He'd leave early in the morning, before Cheyenne and Kyra would even be down the stairs. We went from not wanting to leave each other's side in the mornings to him barely even kissing my cheek before rushing out the door.

I suppose I should've suspected something was up with him, but I just thought we needed some space. I was worried that I might be smothering him; after all, we had been married for twenty years. We were lucky to still have the passion we had when we were young. Lori Ann used to joke and tell us to stop acting like newlyweds. She used to say we put all newlyweds to shame. When I finally did find out about their affair, I was disconsolate. He cheated on me with her, the woman I'd hired to make sure that he'd come home. She was young enough to be our daughter. He told me, in front of all our children, in court mandated therapy, that he was leaving me because she was pregnant and I couldn't even react. I didn't want my children to see Mommy cry, I didn't want them to see me break. I wanted to keep them from that. I had to pretend that we were still going to be a happy family. We had been all along, why should that change just because Daddy was marrying another woman and having a new baby? But it did break me. It broke my heart and my soul and our twenty year marriage then ended in divorce.

You know how the old saying goes though, right? "Once a cheater, always a cheater."

Well, now he was cheating on her. With me. Yes, I was the other woman to the other woman and I felt no guilt, no remorse and no shame. Why should I feel ashamed? He _was _my husband to begin with and she took him from me. No, I didn't mind carrying the title of "Brock's Mistress" and he certainly didn't mind giving it to me over and over and over again. At one point I'd promised myself this kind of thing would never happen, but that was before I'd snapped. That was before they had rubbed through my last nerve. I did have to admit that it was somewhat odd being the other woman. It wasn't like me at all. I was not a home wrecker. Now I knew what it felt like being on the other side though. I was the one he was sneaking around with, not the other way around and it felt good. It really did.

A year ago I would have cringed at the thoughts running through my mind now and I would have been sickened at the thought of sneaking around with my cheating ex-husband, but like I said. I snapped. Something inside me snapped one day. They way he and Barbra Jean flaunted their marriage through my front door had made me bitter toward them. You'd think after what they'd done, the embarrassment they'd caused me, they'd have the courtesy to leave me alone, or at least knock before they barged in. Well, they didn't.

It had been maybe four months since he first told me he thought he made a mistake leaving me, which meant our "little love affair", as he liked to call it, had been going on since he'd come back to my place late that night. After hearing him pour his heart out to me earlier that day, I couldn't stand the sight of him standing on my back porch in the same grey t-shirt, tired eyes, and sorrowful look. Having been confronted with all that he told me my heart broke for us all over again. He'd admitted that everything he'd done was wrong; he'd told me that he was afraid to be honest with me when we were in couples' therapy back when we were having problems. His tearful apology wasn't going to fix anything, but it helped me to understand what had happened. He was a mess then, a complete mess. I could see him falling apart before my eyes. I let him in to talk. I had to, before he did something stupid.

Well, something stupid did happen. It wasn't supposed to and I didn't want it to, but as per usual he managed to get under my skin again and mess with my emotions. That entire day was an emotional one and I just simply didn't have the energy to hide myself from him. A hug meant to comfort the both of us lingered because neither of us had any intention of breaking the connection we hadn't had in so long. He hadn't seen me cry in years, but that night, after everything that had happened that day and the past three years, I just couldn't help it. I had feelings, though I didn't show them often, and they were tired of being held in for so long. Our clothes were suddenly flying and our chest heaving before we could register what was happening. His needy grasps were enough to burn through my skin and his kisses of longing reduced me to nothing, but a woman who lusted for the touch of man.

When he left that night he closed my bedroom door softly behind himself. I watched it for the longest time, hoping he'd come back and the past three years would be a dream, but he never did. I curled onto my side and lay there in the mess of tangled sheets, sobbing until my voice went hoarse. I couldn't stop thinking about what we'd done and who we were betraying, and who's lives we'd be upsetting if this got out. I was so afraid that Barbra Jean, should she find out, would have to go through the same heartbreaking pain that I had. I'd realized then that, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself I didn't, I still loved him. I cried again. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore, until there wasn't a single tear left in my trembling body to shed. I rolled over and took a deep breath into the pillow beneath me and I could still smell his cologne then suddenly I saw red.

It was as though someone had thrown the switch on my emotions and all I could feel was anger and hatred. If it wasn't for Barbra Jean it wouldn't be just his cologne I'd smell. It would be his body next to mine with the heat radiating off his skin and his arm draped lovingly across me. But here, because of her, I didn't have that anymore. I didn't have a marriage, I didn't have a husband, I didn't have someone to sooth my fears or talk me down when I was furious. I didn't have someone to make love to me late at night when the kids were asleep and the moon was high and the only light in the room was shining through the satin curtains from the dull streetlamps below.

From that moment on I shut off all my feelings toward him. I built a wall around myself that not even Brock and his puppy dog face could break down. Yes, I was the woman he cheated on and the woman whose heart he broke, but I wasn't going to let myself love him again. I wanted to make Barbra Jean feel the way that she had made me feel. I wanted Brock to myself again, but I wouldn't love him. I couldn't. He'd cheated on me; he's cheating on her right now. Even if he left her for me, what's to say he won't cheat on me again? No, I couldn't go through that a second time. Three years ago I'd never have thought myself capable of committing an act like this. Three years ago I was a happy housewife with happy children. Three years ago I was a different person. Now three years later, does it ever feel good to get back at the woman who ruined my marriage!

He gently stroked my pale, freckled skin with his soft, steady hand and I sighed contently. Tonight made four months exactly. We'd been together so many times in those four months. It was almost every night now, nearly every day, and sometimes multiple times a day. Lying partly on my stomach I quite enjoyed the sensation of his fingers brushing against my spine. I felt him kiss my shoulder and I moaned lightly and rolled over to face him. I pressed my forehead to his and kissed his lips.

I couldn't picture he and Barbra Jean being as passionate as he and I always were. They had no chemistry, their relationship was purely physical. It had to be. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. After all this time it still cut deep knowing that he'd slept with her, on more than one occasion, because of physical attraction when we had passion, love and devotion. How could he throw that away? For her? They'd conceived another life while he was still married to me and she carried that life for nine months, most of which she spent in my house, shadowing me. His child. If anything that baby should've been mine. We should've conceived that child in love and I should have another son. Not her.

I exhaled angrily.

He groaned. "What did I do?" Brock asked.

"Huh?" I leaned back to look at him. "Nothin'!"

"Then what are you huffin' for?" he asked. I sighed and let my head fall back and his mouth quickly latched onto my throat. "You're thinking about her again, aren't you?" he breathed.

"No." I lied.

He pulled me onto his chest and I gently pecked his neck while running my fingers through his hair. "You are so. You're doing that thing you always do with your face."

I scoffed. "What thing?"

He brushed a strand of my short, red, disheveled hair behind my ear with one hand and ran his other down my back to my backside. "That thing where your face starts to turn a couple shades lighter than your hair, your eyebrows furrow and your nostrils flare because whatever's on your mind's got you upset." he smiled. "Stop it."

I rolled my eyes closed and groaned loudly, rolling off his warm body. "I can't help it, Brock! We're in _your_ room in _your_ house, and every time you touch me, every_where_ you touch me, I wonder if you touched _her_ the same way when you were married to me. And don't tell me you didn't because I know you, and I _know_ you did and it makes me sick!" I hissed in one breath and smacked my hands down on the mattress.

He laid there chuckling at me. "I love it when you get like this."

"Like what?" I snapped.

"Jealous."

"I'm not je—" I stopped and rolled my eyes again. I was jealous and I had every right to be.

He propped himself up onto his elbow. "Well, if it makes you feel any better you're the only woman I've slept with in four months."

"It doesn't." I retorted hastily.

Brock brought his hand up to brush his thumb over my jaw. "Not even a little bit?"

"No." It did though. He hadn't been sleeping with her since he'd started sleeping with me. I'd secretly hoped that's what would happen.

"You know," I felt his hand on my thigh. "I haven't even touched her since we started this little…"

"Affair?" I offered flatly.

"Reba…" he said softly.

"It doesn't, Brock. It doesn't make me feel any better at all."

He silenced me with a kiss and slid an arm beneath my back, arching my body into his. "I think I have an idea about what will."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you do, do you?" I asked smoothly.

"You know I do, babe. I always do." He murmured against my collar bone.

"You certainly don't tire easily, do ya?" I chuckled. A pinch of my hip was his answer. "You know, Brock, the sun'll be up soon. I should get back."

Brock's head whipped around to the digital clock on the nightstand. "What are you talking about? It's 3:45."

"Which means, I have to be up for work in two hours."

"Can't you just call in sick?" he breathed against my lips.

I laughed. "I did that yesterday. And the day before."

"So? One more day couldn't hurt, could it? Besides, all this sex has got you glowing. You're stunning."

"Come now, don't be ridiculous."

He put more of his weight on me as he lay above me. "Ridiculous? I'm not being ridiculous. You're just ridiculously sexy in this light."

"Moonlight?"

"All light." he whispered as he captured my lips once again.

I draped my arms over his shoulders and pulled him even closer. I lay beneath the weight of his body, loving the sensation of being breathless. I parted my lips and he seized control, lining my lips with his tongue. The love we'd made half an hour ago was passionate, lustful and calculated and it left us both exhausted. We spent our time together tonight trying to please one another, trying to outdo each other. I could feel how tired he now was in his sluggish movements. He was sloppy as nuzzled my neck, kissing and nipping at my throat while I rubbed his shoulders.

"Long day at the office?" I asked as I squeezed the muscles. "You're tense."

"It was." he breathed. "But I got to come home to you."

I smiled into his hair and kissed the top of his head. "This isn't going to be a routine thing, you know. She comes home soon."

"Let's not talk about that. We still have two days."

I ran my fingers through his hair. "Well, that's true. But we can't spend them together. The kids would start to wonder where I've been disappearin' to."

He slid down my body, kissing me lightly as he went. "You know, Reba. I think we've got enough go for another round, don't you?"

A laugh bubbled up through my throat. "You sure about that?"

"I dunno about you, but I'm pretty sure I can't let you sneak home quite yet."

I pulled my legs up around him, cradling his body between my thighs. "No?" My stomach tightened in anticipation and I pivoted my hips beneath him.

"Not yet." he said in answer to both my question and my advances. He leaned down swiftly and bit my bottom lip between his teeth.

I rolled my eyes closed upon feeling him against my stomach. The blood running through my veins was white hot and my toes were tingling. I could feel myself begging to sweat. There was nothing stopping us from becoming one once again, but him. It was up to him now, I was ready and waiting. Brock released my lip then pressed his mouth to mine. The lust in his kiss was evident the second his lips touched mine. He ran his hand along my side and gripped my waist hard. He grinned against my lips when he heard me groan and my breath hitched when I finally felt him.

"Ohh, nice and easy, Brock." I moaned into his shoulder.

His breath was hot against my neck as he held me close and buried his face against my skin. He was igniting all the right flames and touching all the right places. I grabbed his hair tight in my fingers as I tried to focus on him rather than the way he was making me feel and oh, was he ever making me feel. I combed my fingers through his sandy blonde hair, easing the tangles out and loving the way it slid through my fingers like silk. Brock lifted his head, his bright blue eyes, glazed over, thick with lust. His lips just grazed over mine before he lowered his head to graze them over my throat then down to my chest. He seemed so concentrated as he took one of my breasts in his hand and kept the rhythm. I felt his tongue roll over my flesh before he sucked my skin into his mouth and forced his pelvis hard against mine. My eyes flew open and a loud moan slipped past my lips. He sighed, long and powerful, as his breath tickled over my breast sending shivers coursing down my spine before he sunk just as deep again. My foot lifted off the bed in response and I let it drop heavily onto the mattress. Brock smiled down at me, leaning in slowly to kiss me. Then he tapped my hip and was gone.

My eyes popped open and I sat up in my elbows to see him easing himself back on the bed.

He took my hand and pulled me toward him. "Come here." he said with a cheeky grin.

I shook my head chuckling as I climbed over him and straddled his waist. "What?" I asked running my hands over his chest and stomach.

"Nothin'." he pulled my head toward him with his finger under my chin.

I brushed my lips across his and kneaded his stiff shoulders with my warm hands as he lifted and lowered my hips. Now it was my turn to smile down at him as his eyebrows furrowed over his closed eyes. I wanted nothing more than to touch him. To make him feel as good as he knew he could make me feel. My hands roamed his body. His chest, his shoulders, his arms, his sides, his face and his hair. His fingers raked around my hips to where he held my thighs in his grasp. His fingertips wandered over my stomach and finally stopped on my breasts. Lord knows how much he loved to have a pair in his hands. I could feel it in the way his body stiffened upon his gentle groping.

Soon I was trembling above him, my breath quickening. His eyes locked on mine and I couldn't detach my gaze from his, not that I wanted to. He slid his hands back down to my thighs, pressing his fingers deep into the muscles of my legs. My eyes didn't leave his as my body clenched around him. I grabbed his wrists to pull his hands from my legs and he interlocked his fingers with mine, smiling, as I gripped his hands tighter and tighter. His mouth opened and his eyes widened in anticipation of the cry he knew I was holding in. He continued thrusting, trying to push me over the edge I was so unwilling to let go of. I swallowed hard then gasped and lost it. My composure came crashing down around us. He kept a hold of my hands to keep my body over his. My eyes finally left his and rolled closed as a wave of heat coursed through my veins. The cry we'd both been waiting for slipped through my lips on my next gasp for air and that's when I felt him moving harder beneath me again. My fingers shot open as I released his hands to catch myself from falling over him. My face was inches from his with my hair cascading down around him. It slid from my behind shoulders and settled on his.

"God." I breathed and lowered my forehead to rest on his. That's when I felt his release. I placed my hands on his cheeks and pulled his lips to meet mine. He wrapped his arms around my back and held me tight to him. Rolling from his chest I settled at his side and pressed my lips to his sweaty shoulder.

Our hearts were racing. I could feel mine pounding and hear his thumping. I ran my hands through my hair, pushing my bangs back over my sweaty forehead and they stayed back.

"Brock, what was that?" I asked suddenly as he continued drawing circles on my hip.

He opened one eye to look down at me. "What was what?"

I sighed. "That beep, didn't you hear it?"

"Beep? What beep?"

I stayed silent for a minute. Nothing.

"Never mind. It was nothing." I settled back at his side with my hand over his chest.

"That's nice." he murmured as I drew circles on his skin.

"Yeah?" I asked lifting my eyebrow.

He groaned. "Oh, yeah."

There it was again!

I stopped tracing my fingers across his chest and laid my palms flat."Okay, you had to've heard it that time."

He rolled his eyes. "Reba, who cares what it is?"

I moved to get up off the bed, taking the sheet with me. "I care, it's gonna drive me insane!"

"Hey! Sweetheart, does it really matter right now?"

I shook my head and walked across the room. It had come from the dresser, but it was so dark in here, how was I going to find whatever it was in the dark? Wrapping the sheet around my body I fumbled around on the dresser then heard it one more time before I found the culprit.

LOW BATTERY.

I held up a small camera. "Brock, what is this?" I asked. "Were you filmin' us?"

He scratched the back of his head and swallowed loudly before answering. "Are you mad?"

I kept a straight face. "Well, this wouldn't be the first time. Why didn't you just tell me? I wouldn't feel so violated if you had."

"Well, I couldn't just tell you! What am I supposed to say? Reba, you don't mind if I just set this camera up over here for later tonight, do you? Besides, when you know it's there you don't act the same."

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?" I asked with the camera still in my hand. He stared at me, motionless, afraid to say a word and I laughed. "No, Brock, I know what you mean." I kept the camera on him as I walked around the bed and laid it on the nightstand. "I'm not mad, don't worry." I kissed him and let him pull me onto the bed.

"I wasn't worried." He winked. "And though I do like the provocative Reba that knows there's a camera on her, I prefer the Reba who was completely wrapped up in me not ten minutes ago."

"I like her better, too. It's too much work, puttin' on a show." I exhaled. "So, should I just expect that you might be filmin' our little adventures from now on?"

"Well, I might be, might not be, you never know."

I rolled my eyes and pressed my lips to his. "You're bad, I like it."

"You like that, huh?"

I rolled myself on top of him again and leaned down to his ear. "I _love _it. I've got this thing for bad boys." I whispered.

"I'm a bad boy now?"

"You always were. I picked you over Parker, didn't I? He was the good boy, but for some reason I liked you better."

He slipped his hand down between us. "I think I know the reason."

I laughed softly as his fingers caressed my sensitive skin. "The wildfires…" I murmured against his lips.

A voice rang out through the house.

"Brock, honey. We're home!"

I leaned away from Brock's and stared wide eyed at him. He pushed me from his body and I landed hard on the mattress, the sheet wrapped loosely around my naked body, as he jumped up from the bed.

I exclaimed as I struggled to turn onto my stomach in the mess of sheets. "Brock, you said she—"

He shushed me. "I know what I said! That's what she told me!"

"Brock?" Barbra Jean called, her voice nearer now.

I pulled the sheet tighter around my body and rose from the bed panic stricken. She couldn't find us now. No matter how badly I wanted to hurt her, she couldn't actually find out about us! He jumped over the comforter and moved toward me, pressing my clothes into my arms as he made his way to the door to poke his head out while he buttoning up his shirt.

"Just a sec!" He hollered then shut the door and kissed my cheek. "I'll get rid of her, don't worry."

"You better! I didn't sign up for this, Brock!" I hissed.

He pressed his lips to mine, cradling the back of my head with his hand, then released me to take care of her. I stayed staring at the door for a second after he left then scrambled to pull my clothes on. I didn't care what he had to do to get rid of her; he just had to get rid of her! It was so dark in the bedroom, I couldn't even tell if my shirt was on the right way and I couldn't turn on the light to check either. I couldn't chance it. Brock was all I had. This affair was all I had. It was something I was doing for myself and I felt good about it. As bad as it sounded, I needed it. I didn't need him, but I needed this affair.

I froze.

The camera!

Whirling around, I fell across the bed to grab it and stopped it recording then shoved it in my purse. The door creaked open and I dashed into the en suit to hide.

"Reba, relax. It's just me. She's gone."

I exhaled and walked across the room. "How'd you manage to get rid of her at four in the morning?"

"I told her to gas up the car."

Relieved, I fell into his chest and started laughing.

"Close call." Brock chuckled.

I ran my hands through his disheveled hair. "Ya think?" I exclaimed.

"She was on her way up the stairs when I stopped her."

My knees buckled. She'd come so close to catching us. I felt sick to my stomach.

He squeezed my shoulders. "Honey, relax."

"I gotta get home." I shook him off and started down the stairs and stopped with my hand on the door knob. "Get some sleep, Brock. You'll need your energy for the next time I see ya."

"Oh, I'll be ready."

I pointed at him. "You call me."

He pressed me up against the door and kissed my neck. "Don't I always?"

"Brock, stop it. She's only down the street. I have to be home before she gets back."

He pecked my lips. "How about you call in sick tomorrow and stop by the office when we're closed for lunch?"

"I can't keep calling in sick, Brock. Not this many days in a row. And why would I call in sick anyway? I'm just down the hall from you, and Eugene closes for lunch too, you know." I offered.

"Well, well, well. Looks like we have a time and a place. Get on home. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Call me." I said again.

"I will, before work." He reached around me and took hold of the door knob. "Now git!" he laughed slapping my backside.

Glaring at him as I walked away, I laughed. God, I liked havin' him around. It was great to have someone to hold me again, someone who felt just as passionate about me as I did about them. Brock was someone I had a history with. We had twenty years to figure each other out and he knew me inside _and_ out. Quite literally. He knew everything about me. What turned me on, what I didn't like and how many freckles I had on my right shoulder. He knew me and I loved that.

I stumbled to the side, off the sidewalk and stepped into the grass. Lord, I was exhausted. I needed sleep. An hour long nap would have to do though, maybe I could squeeze in an hour and a half if I was smart about it. I looked back at their house once I made it to my front step and shook my head. If it weren't for Barbra Jean and her stupid surprise homecoming I'd have two more days with Brock all to myself. Why did she have to come home today? At four in the morning? Who comes home at four in the morning with their three year old son? Was Henry sleeping? Why would she do that to the poor child? If Henry had come up over the stairs and into the room looking for Brock he would've found us. Barbra Jean almost found us for crying out loud!

That was close, Brock Hart. Too close.


End file.
